


Come Unstuck

by whatacartouchebag



Series: Fair Game Week 2020 [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: M/M, a little bit of canon typical violence but nothing major, fairgameweek2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:15:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23169928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatacartouchebag/pseuds/whatacartouchebag
Summary: Day One Challenge - SemblancesWhat is luck without Misfortune? Certainly not a mission where everything runs as smooth as clockwork.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Series: Fair Game Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665535
Comments: 14
Kudos: 100





	Come Unstuck

**Author's Note:**

> And we're off! Day One of the Fair Game Week challenge and I chose to run with the theme of Semblances. Enjoy <3

“Is this usually how it goes for you?” Qrow's voice taunted lightly, wringing the smile from the operative a few yards across from him.

Clover had his back pressed up against the wall, splinters of brick spitting off around him as their assailants continued to keep them pinned down by sporadic gunfire. It dusted hair and uniform occasionally with how much flew about him. For something as simple as monitoring a weapon exchange between two parties, it had certainly fallen apart in a hurry about them.

Then again, there really was no such thing as a simple job when a well known arms dealer had been caught supplying weapons to a local resistance faction. Hell, there really was no such thing as a _simple job_ in either of their professions. Qrow already knew this well enough by way of escorting his teams to the far-flung locations of magical artefacts that would help save the world from an immortal sorceress.

This kind of mission was probably just a drop in the ocean for him, he thought, smile hitching.

Still, partnering up on what should have been an easy mission proved that once again, things always had the chance to fall to pieces, no matter how carefully planned out they were. No matter how big or small the task at hand.

No matter how much good luck they had on their side.

Qrow sighed to himself, leaning his head against the brick pillar behind him, casually ignoring the gunfire from behind him. If only he hadn't accidentally kicked that metal shelf. Which dislodged its contents all over the ground. And then decided to keep toppling over and fall into the next one.

He didn't know which hurt worse, his pride as a stealth operative, or the subsequent crate he tripped over as they bolted, sending him sprawling and leaving him trapped where he currently sat.

His forearm still throbbed from where he hit the deck, and he resisted the urge to rub it gingerly.

“Usually it's a little quieter than this,” the man brought him back to his senses with a soft laugh. Green eyes flicked up to their surroundings, falling back onto the huntsman. With all the gunfire about them, there was no way to safely get to Qrow, or vice versa.

They had to deal with their attackers first.

“Hey,” Clover whispered harshly to him. “We need to get behind them. Can you make it to the rafters?”

Qrow stared back at him for a moment, red eyes darting skywards. The warehouse _did_ have a pretty decent roof cavity. The knowing smirk ghosted across his lips; birds were well known for making their homes somewhere warm and high. He scuffled to his feet, still keeping pressed tight to the pillar.

Shouts rang out from the source of that gunfire, and there was a brief lull in the activity as they moved up. Qrow took the chance to take a couple of steps back, launching himself up the length of the pillar, still keeping out of sight as best as he could. A brief flicker of his cloak skirted the brickwork, and a few shots rang out towards him, cracking off more of the brick.

Fingers caught and hauled himself to the start of the rafters, still staying low. Red eyes glanced down to where Clover was-

Or rather,  _wasn't_ -

The operative had vanished from his place; Qrow not even having heard him  _move_ . Perhaps he was picking up a few things from him after all, he thought with a faint smile.

He turned his gaze forward once more, and in a short scattering of feathers, the raven took off through the confined darkness of the warehouse.

A bullet sang through the air, clipping the edge of feathers, and it cried out in surprise, beating it's wings faster to scarper away from the scene. It didn't even have to pretend to be startled when it just about had the life scared from it; gods above, but someone down there had good night vision...

“Just a bird, idiot,” a voice from down below called. “Find that Ace Op!”

Red eyes flicked downwards as it came to a stop behind all of them, perched high in the rafters and puffing lightly. They were all advancing on his last known position, weapons still drawn. From where it sat, it could see a couple of crates of dust crystals sitting alongside the weapons cache, and it cocked a dark head at it.

Well now, it certainly would be a shame if anything unfortunate happened to that...

Qrow reappeared as feathers fell about him, dropping silently from his place to the ground below in a crouch. He kept his back pressed against the weapons crate, fingers slipping into where the dust crystals sat, and he turned it over in his fingers lightly. The downside to sending the whole thing up in a dust-riddled explosion was the fact that they'd lose all their evidence.

Now  _that'd_ be a shame, he mused, tucking the little gem into his jacket.

He crept his way silently towards the first of the men, hands ready for the strike, and already praying to whatever gods left that no more bad luck would trip them up tonight. He was as close as he dared without actually breathing down his neck. In a sharp thrust, he whipped a hand about the man's mouth, smothering his startled cry as he cracked him hard at the back of the head, sending him into darkness.

Qrow cradled his body as he went down, silently leaving him there and ducking back into the shadows, red eyes already finding the next one. Start with the fingers, move to the heart; the words still echoed through him as he crept up on the next assailant in the same fashion. An age old line of advice from another lifetime.

Hands darted up again, one clenched about a mouth as he struck hard at the back of the neck, sending the man under.

There was a string of disappointed shouting ahead of him, out of sight, and he knew it was his last chance at stealth.

Lowering the body to the floor, he shot from his place, Harbinger still compact in his hand as he aimed for the last man he could see.

His feet suddenly faltered under him as he ran, stumbling over a discarded weapon and landing hard on his knees, giving the guy enough time to realise he was about to be attacked. Qrow bit back the hiss of pain as he pushed himself up once more; of course it was just his luck to land on the same arm as before. There was a telltale click of a weapon before him, and he could only whip red eyes up as he faced the pistol levelled at his face.

Well, he'd been in tighter scrapes before...

“Weapon to the side, _now_ ,” came the not so gentle order, and Qrow held his gaze steady for a moment. He could still transform out of harm's way, using the moment of surprise to put distance between the two of them; the bird was a smaller target, but it was slower than his human body.

There were also two more of these guys somewhere, and he could only assume that Clover was taking care of them.

Or, if he was feeling particularly reckless, he could pitch his stolen prize of a dust crystal towards him, freezing the gun in his hand and causing a very unfortunate misfire.

“Hey, I said now!”

The sharp bark of an order was met with pinched brows, and Qrow slid Harbinger away from him; the metal scraping across the floor.

“You know, you really shouldn't yell at an unarmed huntsman,” he told him, raising his hands slowly in surrender.

Fingers tightened about the pistol. “I trust you Ace Ops as far I can throw you. Down on the ground, now!”

The words threw Qrow for a moment, and he blinked back at him, brows ducking to his hairline. He thought- This guy thought that  _he_ was their snooping Ace Operative? Then that meant... Clover hadn't been seen at all. They really thought it was just one person trying to take them down.

“You think-”

He sighed in exasperation, suddenly feeling weary at the whole evening as he dropped his hands to his side. There was a brief scuffle of noise further up, and the man didn't know what to look at first, suddenly realising he was probably very alone and completely without backup in the warehouse.

“Oh, that's unfortunate for you...” he told the guy with a shake of his head.

There was an angry growl from the man as he advanced sharply on Qrow, losing all patience with him and shoving the gun roughly to the side of his head.

Qrow resisted the urge to roll his eyes as it dug into his temple. Yeah, this guy was a genius alright. Get right up close to a huntsman specially trained in hand-to-hand combat.

“Come out where I can see you! No sudden movements or he gets it!” the guy yelled to where Clover was. For emphasis, he grabbed a scruff of Qrow's collar, yanking the edge of dark hair and pulling the wince from him. Now _that_ hurt more than his fall. But, at the very least, it put him even closer to the guy.

Red eyes narrowed lightly and he decided enough was enough. Whipping hands about, one shoved the gun upwards and away from his temple, nails clenching hard enough to hurt, at the same time as he cracked an open palm strike to the side of the guy's knee. He cried out in sudden pain, and was already crumpling to the ground.

A heartbeat later, a bola whipped out from in front of them, snapping tight about his arms and sending him crashing to the ground, pistol clattering to the side with a sharp yelp. From his tight hold on Qrow, the huntsman was yanked with him, sending him sprawling onto the ground; head hitting the ground and knocking the breath from him.  _Gods_ what was  _with_ tonight.

The low grumble slipped from him as he pulled himself up to a seated position again, rubbing at the back of his head lightly. Well, nothing felt broken, and there was still only one of everything in the warehouse. He gave a light sigh, and got to his feet after a moment, brushing himself off casually and turning to stare down at his would-be attacker, still writhing on the ground in pain.

“Flattered you think I'm part of the Ace Ops. But ah, that'd be him,” he told the man with a smirk, nodding towards the approaching operative. Clover dusted his hands lightly as he made his way to them, reaching up to tap his communicator.

“Alpha here. All targets and payload secured. Awaiting transport.”

He lowered his hand with a satisfied sigh, giving Qrow a soft laugh. Trust him to want to taunt a man with a gun to his head.

“And people say that _I_ like to gamble with my luck,” he commented wryly, smirking at the huntsman. Qrow could only offer him a nonchalant shrug.

“It's not luck when I know I'm faster than any of these idiots,” he replied simply. “There's two more up ahead. Hope you brought enough for the whole family.”

Clover reached behind him, extracting the last two bolas he carried with him, tossing one to the huntsman. “Look at that, managed to find just the right amount for this mission.” The operative gave him a brief wink as he walked past him. “Lucky for us, huh?”

Red eyes  _did_ roll at that, and the two of them walked to their respective targets, securing them and ensuring they were still breathing. Well, in Clover's case, making sure they were still breathing. Whatever Qrow had done to take them down, they weren't getting up in a hurry for a while, and he shook his head as he withdrew fingers from a pulse.

Still breathing, but they'd sure wake up with a hell of a headache.

He stood up once more, and green eyes swept back to the weapons cache at the rear of the warehouse. He walked to it, taking in everything that lay before him, placing his hands to his hips. Clover couldn't help but give a low whistle at the sight; there was enough firepower here to do some real damage down the line.

Not to mention the cache of dust alongside it.

He really didn't want to think of how much that would've cost them.

“Gotta say, you're getting pretty good at sticking to the shadows,” Qrow's voice stirred next to him, and he offered him an easy smile.

“I had a good teacher,” he replied simply, turning some of the weapons over in his hands. Gods, some of this stuff was hard to come by in the _military_ , let alone on the black market. “You're... _also_ getting better at utilising your semblance,” he told him, dry as he could manage.

Qrow all but deflated next to him with a heavy sigh, one hand pressing to his forehead.

“Gods, could you not-” he cut himself off again, his other hand joining the first and wanting to scrub the shame from his memory. Clover's laughter sang out next to him, and he felt the brush of warm fingers at the curve of his arm. He lowered his hands, embarrassment still tinting his cheeks as he refused to meet the man's gaze.

“Well... need to have the good days with the bad days, right?” Clover offered lightly by way of gentle apology.

Fingers brushed along his arm, and he couldn't help the sharp hiss that jolted from him, almost whipping back from his touch. Clover glanced at where he'd brushed, brows pinched as he saw gloves and fingertips tinted with a darker colour.

“That explains that...” he murmured, coaxing the huntsman to raise it for him. A low grumble met his ears as he allowed the man to inspect the rather nasty gash that ran the length of his forearm.

“That bad?” Qrow asked him. Clover gave a low hum of approval, careful not to touch it; his ascot wouldn't even cover it. He was going to have to wait for the medics to arrive before he could get it treated properly. The huntsman gave a quiet sigh. “Well, just another spot of bad luck in this whole _mess_ of a mission.”

“I wouldn't say that...” Clover told him fondly, meeting red eyes. “Gives me an excuse to play doctor again.”

Qrow couldn't stop the warm smile from breaking across his lips, turning away from his gaze. He certainly knew how well  _that_ went last time, and the memory of fingers ghosting across scars brought the faint brush of colour to his cheeks.

Fingers reached up to tuck under his chin, turning his gaze back to him.

“ _And_... gives me the excuse to tutor you some more,” Clover continued softly. “You're getting better... Just need to know how to direct it.” A faint grumble met his words, and Qrow glanced away for a moment.

“It still feels... kind of pointless,” he murmured. “ _Especially_ given the way things went tonight.”

Clover tilted his head towards him, forcing those eyes to meet his once more. “Pointless is a pretty strong word. And I don't recall any instances of Misfortune flaring up  _before_ the start of the mission; it was all contained.”

Red eyes stared dubiously back at him, and he pressed on, undaunted. “Which means you're getting better at concentrating it, so it's all a matter of direction.”

Qrow let the quiet breath slip from him, reaching up to brush fingers along the curve of the man's cheek. He knew it would be kind of  _pointless_ to argue the point with him, even if he did have a rather good one. It was true; he'd become far more practised with extending his semblance thanks to Clover's tutelage, and it was expected to have hiccups along the way.

It still didn't stop him from slipping into old habits when it came to recognising it though.

He let the faint smile cross his lips, brushing his thoughts to the side for the moment. He could think about it all when the time came, and he brushed the pad of his thumb across a cheek, falling easily into this closeness of theirs.

“So... do I call you doc, or teach from now on?” he replied quietly. Clover gave a gentle laugh as he nuzzled him gently.

“Call me yours and I'll be whatever you want me to be...”

The moment was shattered when Qrow's laughter tore from him, and he had to pull away from him, lest it overtake him entirely. As it was, Clover couldn't keep the warm smile from his face as he watched the man come down from his temporary mirth.

“That was entirely too cheesy,” he told him, still smiling brightly at the brunet.

There was a brief shrug from the man, not denying it at all. Gloved fingers reached for Qrow's, threading together easily and drawing him closer, feeling the huntsman slip his free hand to the man's hip, careful not to brush his injured arm.

“You love it...” Clover breathed as he let his forehead rest against the other's, the fingers of his free hand finding the curve of a shoulder.

Qrow felt fingers squeeze his own, and the sound of amusement fell from him.

“Yeah... I do...” he breathed, meeting those lips properly. Clover couldn't help but smile against him, holding him gently as they indulged in their brief moment of peace. Soft laughter spilled between them as they stood there, foreheads resting against one another.

There would be time for practise later, the huntsman thought idly. For now, he was content to spend the rest of the evening with his very own lucky charm.

“Qrow...”

The soft question of his name had the faint sound slipping from him in acknowledgement.

“What's in your pocket?”

Red eyes blinked open, staring straight back at the man. “Uh... my scroll?” he offered, not really following. Fingers slipped up from the huntsman's waist, tapping at the small lump across his heart.

“This.”

Realisation stirred at him, and he drew back with a faint laugh. “Oh. _That_. I ah, borrowed one of the dust crystals for a moment,” came the easy explanation, and fingers dipped into his jacket to extract it. “Thought it might come in handy if I needed to improvise something.”

He turned it over in his fingers, watching the little crystal glint in the light.

“Not at all because it's shiny?” smirking lips inquired.

“Very funny,” he stared back at him flatly. “I just forgot about it, but no need to hang onto it now.” Qrow flipped it over in his hand, making to lightly toss it back into the pile with the others.

It fumbled in his hand in a heartbeat, and he snatched almost frantically at the air as it fell, shattering about his feet in a puff of crystalline mist. Biting cold was immediately upon his skin, and bit back the soft hiss, seeing his foot firmly encased in ice and cementing him to the floor.

“Are you _kidding_ me...” he groaned loudly, shoulders sinking.

Clover couldn't help the snort of laughter that flooded from him, and he held up a hand in apology, unable to stop the snuffle of sound as it continued to roll from him. Red eyes stared back at him in pure annoyance, even as Clover rolled Kingfisher into his hand, crouching at his feet.

“You are having a hell of a night...” came the quiet murmur, and he snapped the barb open, twirling it in his hand and striking down at the chunk of ice.

“Thanks, I didn't notice,” the huntsman groused loudly as arms folded across his chest in a firm pout. Another few precision strikes. Green eyes glanced up at him in an amused smirk.

“It's not all bad,” he told him simply. “We caught the bad guys, saved the day. You even got to punch someone.” The light sigh met his ears, and he watched that faint smile grace lips once more.

“Alright, so _that_ part was pretty fun,” Qrow conceded as Clover returned to his task of chipping him free. “And... you're right. I guess.”

The soft words had brunet brows pinching lightly at their tone, and with a final strike, he took the last chunk off the huntsman's ankle, letting him shake the last of it off. The operative stood once more, tucking Kingfisher back into place once more, meeting that gaze.

“Oh?”

Qrow hesitated for a moment, picking through his words as he smiled faintly back at the man. “It's just... practise,” he told him softly, barely above a breath. As if it were a dire secret between them. “Learning... how to direct it...” The faint huff of a laugh left him. “And not drop it on the floor.”

The man could only return the soft smile, reaching up to curl his hand to a bicep, holding gently. “And you _are_ getting so much better at it,” came the firm words. “I'm proud of you.”

Red eyes stared back at him for a long moment, feeling his chest pull in a way that was almost unfamiliar to him. He had to glance away, lest those eyes stare right through him and see exactly what it did to him. It still didn't stop the warm smile from pulling at his lips, and he couldn't stop the need to reach up and rub the side of his neck idly, fingers curling out of something to do.

Truth be told, it didn't feel all that long ago that they'd started working on this semblance issue of his. Well, not issue, he had to remind himself. And he really _had_ improved, all things considered.

It really was as Clover said.

It was just a matter of direction.

“... thanks,” he told him softly, the faint word slipping from him as he met those eyes again. “Really. It... means a lot to... to hear that.” Gods, but it took nearly no effort at all for the man to get under his skin so easily, and he could feel the heat gathering at his collar.

A warm roll of a laugh met his ears, and Clover brushed lips to his forehead, pressing gently, and curling him into a strong embrace once more.

“Welcome...” he breathed, one hand reaching up to trace lightly against his cheek. At least, until the wry smile found the corners of his lips. “Just... let me handle the dust crystals from here on out.”

The sharp snort met his ears, and Qrow glared affectionately back at him, fingers curling into the lapels of his uniform, resting his forehead gently against him, even as the broad smile captured him entirely.

“I take back every nice thing I just said to you.”

The only sound that echoed through the warehouse was Clover's bright laughter, and that was more than enough for the two of them.


End file.
